


Appearances Can Be Deceiving

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Android Murder (Detroit: Become Human), Background Relationships, Bisexual Hank Anderson, Blow Jobs, Crime Scenes, Eden Club (Detroit: Become Human), Love Hotels, M/M, Objectification, Rough Sex, Shyness, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: When Hank and Connor attend a homicide scene at the love hotel "Eden", Hank is shocked by the brutal nature of the scene. However, nothing is as it seems, and that includes Connor himself, who is not the shy robot boy Hank's been led to believe...
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	Appearances Can Be Deceiving

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Violent (android snuff sex) crime scene, Trans Connor, rough sex fantasies. Alcohol abuse/alcoholism.
> 
> Alternate Universe - Connor and Hank are still cops, but Connor is Hank's new(ish) partner. Cole is alive in this universe. Hank is still an alcoholic. The android revolution happened years ago. The Eden Club is now a love hotel ran by Echo and Ripple, who are (of course) married.

Damn love hotels. Hank liked all things Japanese, but he wasn't down with this particular trend rolling into Detroit. Especially since they were popping up all over the city, and they seemed to be the hottest new scenes for homicides. He was sick of dragging his android partner through the front doors and getting odd looks. Connor was damn pretty, and everybody seemed to think they were there _together_. Not that Hank could blame them. It wasn't lost on him that Connor almost seemed to be _flirting_.

Still, they'd only been working together for four months, and Hank was hardly willing to conclude that Connor was into him. Indeed, Connor seemed to charm everyone they met with his soft smiles and seductive voice. CyberLife had knocked it out of the park with this beauty, and Hank felt inadequate compared to him. This android was going to be earning four times Hank's salary within a few years, he just knew it.

He almost rolled his eyes as he pulled into the latest crime scene and saw the neon lights of the Eden Hotel glowing above the entrance in hot pink. Predictably, several of the letters worked only intermittently, and Hank wondered if that could be considered a flaw if it was a design feature. This hotel still had its "GRAND OPENING" banner flapping in the breeze—the lights _couldn't_ be broken already.

"This is the address in the report," Connor piped up helpfully, confirming Hank's fear that they would have to wade through a bunch of tacky themed rooms before the night was out. As if it wasn't bad enough he'd been called out late at night for this bullshit, now he was gonna be examining a corpse that was rotating on a waterbed covered in lime green satin. "Lieutenant, are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah. Just got a fuckin' headache." Hank opened the car door, not willing to admit he'd been passed out on the kitchen floor drunk when he'd gotten the call. It had taken a long, cold shower to sober himself up, and even then, he knew he should have let Connor drive. He wasn't willing to let Connor show his superiority in that department, too, and so he insisted on staying behind the wheel when he picked Connor up. The android had to know he was inebriated, but said nothing.

The corridor into the hotel was lined with two screens, showing a diverse range of silhouettes teasing at sexual activity. Hank ignored the gyrating figures and the LED light strips, passing through another set of double doors and waltzing right up to the reception desk. The carpet was tacky, the walls alive with a light show that belonged in a nightclub more than a hotel, and it took Hank all he had not to vomit at the clashing colors assaulting his senses. He looked down at his shirt. At least _that_ was tasteful.

"Christ, is nothin' about this place low-key?" Hank glanced back to where Connor was standing, gawking at two male silhouettes grinding on one of the screens. "You comin', Connor?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," Connor quipped with a smirk.

_Flirting again_. Hank bit down on his lip and tried not to blush like a virgin bride. He didn't engage in sex often these days, but as far as sex acts went, he'd either seen it, done it, or heard about it. Or dealt with its aftermath at a crime scene. At fifty-three years old, there weren't many surprises left for him in the world, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let some pretty brown-eyed robot boy come and shake his stable world off its axis.

Well, maybe not stable. More like on life-support, some days. But he still understood how the world worked, and his experience was something he could trust in. A rare advantage he had over Connor, who only knew things from a detached point of learning. No doubt the android knew how to choke safely, but he had no idea how it felt to have someone trust you so much they'd let you cut off their blood supply to the brain. After a few years on the job he'd surely know the consequences of when that trust was misplaced, though. Maybe by then he'd be less generous with the come-hither glances and longing looks.

Hank hoped Connor didn't have come to any harm to learn that there was no limit to human cruelty. He knew Connor didn't need to breathe, but there were ways of limiting android mobility that could fuck up a robot. He'd seen a pornographic video of an android consensually allowing a man to fuck him with all his limbs removed. Just research for a case, _of course_ , but he imagined how awful something like that could be if it was non-consensual. That thought left a lasting mark on him.

He hoped Connor was careful in whatever he chose to do in his time off. That wasn't Hank's business, but if someone hurt his partner, Hank was going to remove all their arms and legs, and he wasn't going to ask nicely.

"Can I help you?" Hank spun around to see a beautiful woman with blue hair standing behind the reception desk. She smiled, her lips curled into an expression of amusement. Hank realized he'd been zoning out, his eyes tracking Connor as he stopped looking at the silhouettes and came to stand beside him. "Do you two need a room?"

Connor chose that moment to flash him a winning smile and Hank felt the sentence he had lined up slip away. "I'm with him and... I mean, not with him like that... I'm not that... That's not what I... You, um... Wow... I just... got a job to do. My head—" He reached into his coat to grab his badge, hoping the visual prop would manage what his mind couldn't seem to and tell the young woman they were there on behalf of the DPD to investigate the _murder_. Not rent a damn room.

Connor grabbed his wrist, pulling Hank's hand out of his coat and entwining their fingers. "Yes," he stated. "My boyfriend has a young son at home. It's hard to get any… private time."

Well, that stung, but it wasn't for Connor to know how close he'd come to the truth. He hadn't shared his personal history with his partner. Connor wasn't to know that Cole stayed at Hank's house one weekend a month, or that he had a son at all. Or that he'd felt like such a failure because of his alcohol addiction that he hadn't fought for custody of his son at all. It was his ex-wife who'd ensured he still had a relationship with Cole, or he might have cut contact entirely on the premise of protecting his precious boy from his demons.

He always made sure he was sober that weekend each month, even though it wrecked havoc on his alcohol-dependent system. Cole was getting old enough to know something was up with Dad. The hand tremors were difficult to hide. The timer was counting down on getting himself into rehab, but there was always another excuse why he couldn't do it. It only made him feel like more of a failure.

"Of course," the receptionist said, flashing Connor a knowing smirk. "It's 29.99 per hour. If you could just transmit your credit card data wirelessly, I'll give you a room code and your human friend a card key." Connor's LED flashed yellow momentarily. The lady slid a keycard across the desk to Hank. "My name is Echo, in case you need anything at all. My wife, Ripple, operates room service. If you're hungry, feel free to order using the touchscreen in the room and she'll make sure to deliver your food. Also, please stay away from floor eight. There's been an incident, but you need not be concerned."

"Thank you," Connor said. He led Hank around the corner, out of earshot, but Hank waited until they were in the elevator to start talking.

"What the hell are you doin', Connor? We're here on a case!" Hank hissed.

"Of course, Lieutenant. We'll go to floor eight and tackle the scene first. I wanted to secure a keycard to an ordinary room for comparison purposes."

"You coulda just asked to see a room," Hank snapped. "You didn't have to pretend we were a _couple_."

Connor's gaze turned icy, his expression flat and stoic. Hank hated when he did that. Closed himself off, like Hank had seen too much of him. "Did I offend you, Lieutenant? I assure you I was not speculating on your sexuality, nor is it any of my business."

"No— _no_ , of course not. Quit twistin' my words." Hank hated the bad taste in his mouth his denial gave him. Connor had been right to call him out on it. "Just for the record, I'm bisexual. I didn't mean to sound—" _Disgusted? Alarmed?_ No, those weren't the right words. _Flustered?_

Yeah, that was closer to the truth, but Hank sure as hell wasn't going to admit to that. He was Connor's superior officer. At best, it would be inappropriate. He wasn't going to sexually harass his partner, no matter how goddamn attractive he was.

"As I said, Lieutenant, it's none of my business," Connor said, but his tone had softened. The conversation was cut shot by the doors sliding open. They'd arrived on floor eight. A few beat cops were already on the scene, and they had to duck beneath crime scene tape to step off the elevator. 

"You're here, Lieutenant. Detective." Chris Miller nodded with a grim look on his face. "It's not a pretty scene. The victim is an android, and they were—I'll let you see for yourself." Chris stood outside the door. Connor shot Hank a worried glance, and Hank decided to take point. He stepped into the room first, and immediately averted his gaze. There was fresh thirium everywhere, splattered on the carpet, on the walls, on the dresser. The victim had been… disassembled, from the looks of it, and not carefully. They'd been torn apart piece by piece.

"There are traces of semen on the sheets," Connor said. "This was a sex crime." He reached down and cupped what was left of the android's face. "I've got an ID on the victim, but he's already been deactivated. I can't probe his memories."

"That's probably for the best," Hank remarked. "I don't think you would want to. People are sick." He didn't know if it was the alcohol, but his hands were trembling and he stuffed them in his pockets. "Who could do somethin' like this just to get their rocks off? It's a goddamn snuff scene… I'm think I'm gonna be sick."

Connor gave him a sympathetic gaze, but that only made Hank feel worse. He was supposed to be the one comforting Connor, not the other way around. "Lieutenant. Let me handle this. You still have that keycard, correct? Why don't you go to the room and take a moment? I can report my findings in a while."

Hank gritted his teeth. "No… This is my job, Connor. If you can handle it, so can I. This man deserves justice. I've been on the force long enough that this isn't my first rodeo with a violent sex crime. I'm not gonna bail out of this like a goddamn rookie."

"Does the fact that the victim is an android make it different to you?" Connor asked.

"Maybe. Yeah. It's not like androids have always been treated well. There are still people who think your kind are less than human. To think someone like that might have done this—"

"You don't know that for certain," Connor pointed out. "We need to examine the evidence before we come to any conclusions." He knelt down beside a bloodstain, and Hank wondered how he was able to stay calm like this when one of his own was splayed open on the bed, ribcage separated with what looked to be a chainsaw. His organs had been meticulously removed, one by one, probably while the victim was aware and conscious of what was happening to him…

"The more I learn about people, the more I love my dog," Hank muttered, the coffee he'd drank in an attempt to sober up curdling in his gut. The room stank of sex and thirium, a horrendous mix of bleach and metal he hoped he'd never smell again. He swallowed back his nausea and took a good look inside the victim's chest cavity. His thirium pump had been crushed, but it was still attached. It was the last organ the perp had destroyed, permanently killing him.

The victim's face was peaceful, his shock of blond hair resting on the pillow untouched. As if he'd simply gone to sleep. There was no tortured expression, and Hank was grateful for that at least. He'd seen this model before, though, and seeing this specific face in a position like this felt like the crime had been inflicted on a number of acquaintances of his.

"There's nothing under the victim's synthetic fingernails," Connor said. "In fact, there's nothing to indicate a struggle at all."

Hank bit his lip, trying to focus through the emotional fog and force his brain into detective mode. "Maybe he was placed into maintenance mode or otherwise incapacitated?"

"It's hard to tell without access to his logs. We'll have to have the autopsy lab plug into his black box and see if we can recover that data." Connor took his gloves off. "I've scanned the room. I'd like to visit the room we rented, if I may."

"Yeah. I'll come with you," Hank said. He didn't want to leave Connor alone in this place. Something about this scene gave him the creeps, and he couldn't pin down why. Echo had seemed kind enough. Nothing about her manner had made him uncomfortable, but this entire building was begging to be the scene of a dozen sleazy crimes. He doubted couples came here to get away from the homes they still shared with their parents. This didn't seem like a place for love. Or maybe androids just had a different sense of style. Connor didn't seem to be perturbed at all by the decor.

"The logs check out? This place has a license to operate, all of that shit?" Hank asked as they walked to the elevator.

"Yes. Echo and Ripple are the licensed owners of this hotel," Connor said. "Neither of them have criminal records. I suspect they are as shocked at what happened as we are." He closed his eyes in the elevator, and Hank watched his yellow LED flicker as he uploaded data to the DPD system. Every detail he'd recorded in the room, along with HD and 3D video would be updated for use later. Hank would be able to look at the scene as many times as he wanted, almost as if he was actually there. It would be used at the trial, as well, to give the jury an idea of how gruesome the scene truly was.

Modern technology had brought homicide investigating into the future, and Hank was grateful for that, even as it made him obsolete. He'd be retiring in a few years, and if he was honest with himself, he was ready. When he'd started as a young rookie, he'd already been behind on the times when it came to technology. Now his reliance on paper files and photos was almost laughable. The world had moved on without him, but he feared retirement. There was nothing waiting for him at home except Sumo, and his one weekend a month with Cole. The rest of the time he'd be free to—well, drink, mostly.

Nothing about that was a positive to look forward to. At least while he worked he had Connor to hang out with. His new partner was really growing on him, even if they came from different generations. Even though Connor was an android and he a human. It seemed like they made up for what each other lacked. Hank had experience, and Connor had computer skills. Connor had an air of sweet naïveté, while Hank was jaded and tired of the world.

They arrived at the right floor. Connor unlocked the room remotely, and Hank opened the door. It was a standard room, no frills, no stupid waterbed or dumb gimmicks. Exactly like the room the victim had been murdered in.

"I don't know how you do it," Hank blurted out as the door shut, the lock engaging with a loud click.

"Lieutenant?" Connor's eyes bored into him with curiosity.

"How can you see that victim and remain so calm? I wanted to be sick. I thought about something like that happening to you and I just—I just _couldn't—_ "

Connor smiled. It was such a pretty little smile, but his eyes were sad. "I'm an android, Hank. I can control my facial expressions and my outward emotional responses."

"You were just puttin' on a brave face?" Hank sighed with relief. He tried not to, but sometimes it was easy to fall into believing the outdated mindset that androids didn't experience emotions. He would never be able to know what went on inside Connor's head, and he needed to trust that Connor cared. As if he hadn't proved that already multiple times.

"I find humans are negatively affected by the emotions of others. I try not to make difficult scenes worse than they have to be, Hank. You seem… deeply upset by every scene we attend to. I don't want to add to that suffering."

Hank sat down on the edge of the bed, floored by Connor's observation. Nobody had ever called him out for emoting at a scene, and his assumption that he'd been nothing short of completely professional for thirty years faltered. "I always thought I was the one puttin' on a smile. Is it really that obvious?"

"Humans are always obvious, especially when you think you're being surreptitious."

"What else is obvious about me?" Hank felt visible in ways he didn't want to—exposed, like Connor had been seeing him naked this entire time and he was the last one to notice he wasn't wearing any clothes.

"Your job, and the grim outlook you've obtained regarding humanity because of it, have given you chronic depression. Having internalized the outdated trope of men not asking for help, you've suffered alone, with only alcohol to numb the pain," Connor observed.

Hank looked up, fury surging through him. "That's none of your—"

"—Business. I know. I apologize if I've overstepped, but you asked, Lieutenant. It's not all bad. I know you care deeply about me, and when you saw that victim, your first thought was of something similar happening to me."

"You could tell all that just from my facial expressions?" Hank shook his head. "I guess I should retire. I can't beat you as a detective. You've got me all figured out."

"There's one thing I don't know." Connor stood with his hands on his hips, a human trait he'd stolen from Hank, and Hank was glad to see that he was having an effect on Connor. It wasn't fair for their partnership to be completely one-sided.

Hank nodded. "Shoot. You might as well know everythin', since you've come this far."

Connor smirked. "You're attracted to me, but you haven't made a move, despite me giving every signal that I'm interested in pursuing an intimate relationship with you. Why is that?"

Hank nearly fell off the bed. His instinct was to run for the door and never look back, but what was the point? He'd been seen, and called out on his denial. All he could do now was tell the truth.

"I've known you for four months," Hank said, "and I'm your superior officer. In my day, they called that sexual harassment."

"Or you simply don't believe that I could be attracted to you," Connor observed.

"That too," Hank admitted. "You said it yourself, Connor. I'm an alcoholic. This job has worn me down and destroyed every last bit of faith I had in the human race. Why would you want to be with me? What could I possibly have to offer you?"

"Experience." The longing look in Connor's eyes spoke volumes. "You know so much about this world. Your life is a story of crimes solved the hard way. You've loved, and lost, and had a child—"

"How do you know about—"

"—Public records, Hank. I suppose in your day, they called that kind of behavior stalking. I'm not particularly proud of it, but I wanted to know more about you. I find my mind wandering to thoughts of you when you're not around. I think about all the lucky people you might have had sex with, running those huge, rough hands across their skin—and I throw up a dozen error messages."

Hank smirked. It was quite flattering to his battered ego to think he was having this effect on Connor. "I hear androids have the ability to create visual images of potential outcomes. What have you been thinkin' about, Connor?"

"I've been thinking about renting a room in a love hotel. There'd be a crime scene, and that's how I'd get you in the building. After we'd done our job, I'd lure you away to a room just like this one. When the door closes, you tell me how much you've wanted me all this time, and how you just can't keep it to yourself any more… You'd be desperate, uncontrolled…"

Hank licked his lips. "Keep goin', Connor."

"You reach for my belt, and I pretend to resist—just a little, mind you. I whisper in your ear that we shouldn't, because you're my superior officer, and you—you tell me that yes, I'm _your_ android, that I belong to you, that I have to follow your orders. You tug my jeans down and bend me over the bed, plunging your cock into me, kissing and sucking my surface so roughly that you make my skin retract in several places…"

"Hey, I'd never think of you as a possession…" Hank scowled. Did Connor really think so little of him that he thought Hank just wanted to fuck him like an object and leave him?

"It's just a fantasy, Hank." Connor had gotten so close that Hank could reach out and touch him. "I'm aware of its problematic nature, but I trust you. I know you'd never take advantage of me. That's one of the reasons you've kept your distance. You're the last true gentleman."

"I'm an alcoholic. I can't even be trusted not to abuse myself." Hank hung his head in shame.

"You're a kind man. When you saw that victim, you—the look on your face—like you'd move the world to protect me."

"I would." Hank reached up and cupped Connor's cheeks. "I can't imagine treating you with anything less than complete worship. Look at you. You're _perfect_. You're better than me in every conceivable way. You're faster, you're smarter, you're stronger, you're more handsome. You run rings around me in the job I've given my entire life to. And I'm—I'm _happy_ about it. I don't have to worry anymore that when I retire nobody will be able to do the job like me." He closed his eyes. "I'm not good enough for you, though, Connor, and I'm afraid you only see me as a potential partner because you don't have enough life experience to know better."

"Maybe I just like to play innocent, Hank," Connor suggested. "This isn't my first crime scene. I've seen what people do to each other—and to androids. You claim the job has made you jaded, and yet I see more humanity in you than anyone else on the force. You're dignified and proud, and I want to place myself in your hands completely. I want to see what you're like when you're not pretending to be dead inside."

"Connor…" Hank pulled Connor in for a kiss. It was soft at first, growing more hungry as Connor opened his mouth and their tongues clashed together. Connor straddled Hank's lap, grinding his crotch into Hank's hard cock. Hank pressed against Connor's slit through his jeans, knowing he had a hole begging to be filled. Hank gasped between kisses, heady from a lack of oxygen and the blood rushing to his large dick.

Connor fumbled with Hank's belt, cupping his erection through the thick fabric of his jeans. He pulled down Hank's fly and yanked down his boxers, freeing his cock. Connor stared at it like it was a rare prize before reaching out his tongue for an experimental lick.

"Fuck, Connor…!" Hank gasped.

"May I, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, his pupils two black holes that threatened to consume Hank's soul.

"Please," Hank whispered, like a prayer. "Please… ohhh, fuck!" He looked down to see Connor's face impaled on his dick, the thick shaft stretching Connor's lips. It was beautiful and obscene, and it was all Hank could do not to come right away. He focused on stroking Connor's soft hair as Connor worked him, lavishing the boy with praise. "You're doin' so well." Connor's eyes twinkled with tears and he seemed to redouble his efforts.

Hank eased Connor off him. "Stop, Connor. Just for a second."

"Have I done something wrong?" Connor asked, wiping his mouth. His doe eyes looked so vulnerable, and Hank felt guilty.

"God, no. You're _too_ damn good. I was ready to blow my load right down your throat, and I figure you deserve a better first time than that."

Connor laughed. "This isn't my first time, Hank. I've been activated over a year, now. I hope it doesn't bother you that I've had other sexual experiences."

"That's a good thing," Hank sighed, relief leaving his body. "Lucky person, and I can't say I'm not jealous, but I'm glad."

Connor sat down on Hank's lap. "Would you… indulge me now?" He grabbed Hank's hand and guided it down his pants to his slick pussy. He rubbed his little dick with Hank's hand, and Hank moved his thumb over it, eliciting a moan from Connor. "I want you to fuck me like your life depends on it. I want you to come inside me like I'm yours to use as you see fit. Would you do that for me?"

"I'd be honored," Hank whispered. He drew Connor in for another kiss, then stood up, lifting Connor with him. He lay him down on the bed, unbuckling his belt and dragging off his jeans. Connor was too far gone to pretend to struggle as Hank pinned him down by the back of his neck. With his other hand he positioned his dick at Connor's hole, pressing himself inside.

"You're so big, Lieutenant!" Connor cried. Hank chuckled, biting his lip not to come at the heat and moisture inside Connor's hole. It was sublime, perfectly tight and slick with want.

"Be a good little android and do what you're told," Hank hissed. "You were made for this. Manufactured to fit my cock. They designed that pretty face to be just my type." He set up a furious rhythm, pounding into Connor, knowing the android wanted this and he wasn't going to last long.

Neither was Connor, apparently. He gasped and cried out, his hole clamping down on Hank's dick. It was too much for Hank to take and he came with a bellow, filling Connor with his seed. He pulled out, gasping for breath as he pulled Connor into his arms. He tenderly stroked Connor's hair, lavishing him with kisses as they lay together.

The phone on the bedside table rang. Hank rolled over and picked up. "Hello?"

"This is Echo. I thought you might want to know an Officer Chris Miller is looking for you. Seems there's been a breakthrough on your case."

"How did you know—"

"I'm an android, Lieutenant Anderson. I knew who you were the moment you walked through the front door. Your partner asked me to keep it to myself, and so I did. Was the room to your satisfaction?"

"Y—yeah." He looked over at Connor, who was smiling. The conniving charmer had set this all up. Angled Hank to have him exactly where he wanted him. Hank put down the phone, realizing it was for the best. He would have stalled indefinitely, always having a new excuse as to why Connor was too good for him.

They cleaned themselves up and headed back to the 8th floor. A satisfied glow settled over Hank, and Connor seemed to have the same aura. He had to remind himself they were on duty. Holding Connor's hand and doing a little skip to the crime scene would not be appropriate or wise.

Chris narrowed his eyes. "There you are. I've been looking for you. It seems this crime wasn't a crime at all."

"What do you mean?" Hank asked. "You can't look at that scene and tell me that—"

"It was consensual," Connor realized. "The android consented to a snuff scene with his partner, probably because his old body was about to break down anyway. The android uploaded his memory and consciousness to a new model and had his partner deactivate the old one. Therefore, there is no victim—and therefore, no crime was committed." 

"That's correct." A smiling android, identical to the one on the bed, stood in the doorway. Sparkling blue eyes bored into Hank's, and Hank was taken aback that such a gentle visage could harbor such a violent fantasy. "I must apologize for the inconvenience. I understand my proclivities may be considered disturbing. It was not my intention to waste police time or to leave a scene this gruesome in nature for others to see. Markus—my partner—is in a safe place. He got spooked when he crushed my thirium pump. I asked for a little too much of his trust. Pushed his boundaries beyond their limits. We were both fools, but we'll work through it." He smiled at Connor. "It's good to see you again, my friend. I apologize if I scared you."

"It's good to see you too, Simon." Connor nodded. "I admit the scene did have me convinced a crime had occurred. I'm glad to see that's not the case." Simon walked back into the room, presumably to clean up the mess.

Hank practically dragged Connor back to the elevator, clutching his shoulders. "You know him? This… this was consensual?"

"Simon was my first sexual partner," Connor explained. "and yes, it was. I know what he likes. It explains why his thirium pump was the last thing to be destroyed. His partner was making sure he was fully uploaded before destroying his old body."

Relief flooded Hank as he redrew the horrific scene in his mind. All the failsafes were there. The evidence lined up. He'd just seen what he'd been afraid to see—his precious Connor, hurt and wounded, trapped in a place where he'd been unable to protect him. "I am way too old to deal with kinky androids and rough sex," Hank muttered.

"Your cock begs to differ," Connor whispered into his ear, as the elevator doors slid shut. Hank wondered if he'd bitten off more than he could chew with this one. Shy he was not, and Hank was starting to realize that when it came to androids, appearances could be deceiving.


End file.
